Page 10 of Cider Kissed By the Mountain Man
For a moment, something shifted in his expression. The hard edges softened just a fraction, and I caught a glimpse of vulnerability before his walls snapped back into place.
“Right,” he said, stepping back so my hand fell away. “I always do.”
But he didn’t sound convinced.
I spent the next two hours watching Trent tear apart the apple washer piece by piece, his frustration mounting with each component that tested fine. It should have been boring, but just like yesterday, watching him work fascinated me. He was methodical, thorough, completely focused on the problem at hand.
It was also incredibly attractive, the way his hands moved with such confidence and skill. I’d always been drawn to competent men, but there was something about Trent’s quiet expertise that made my mouth go dry.
“Try it now,” he called from underneath the machine.
God, his voice. All gravel and command and—nope. Focus, I scolded myself. Focus on the apple washer, not the wetness that was gathering on my panties.
I pressed the start button, and the machine hummed to life. “It’s working.”
“About damn time.” His voice was muffled but I could hear the relief. “Hit the stop button.”
I did, and the machine powered down just as Trent rolled out from underneath it. “I guess this calls for a celebration.”
He smiled at me. The first full on smile he’d given me and my ovaries gave a sharp tug on my heartstrings.
He crossed over to the refrigerator in the corner and pulled out a brown jug. Next, he took two paper cups from a stack and walked back over to the work bench. “You can be my official taste tester. This was made from the first batch of apples this year.”
He handed me the small paper cup, and I took a sip. I’d had cider before, but this seemed to explode across my taste buds. It was sweet and tangy all at once.
“Oh, wow.”
“Good?” He grinned as he downed his cup with one swallow.
“Dangerously good.” A drop clung to my bottom lip, and I licked it away without thinking.
His gaze fixed on my mouth. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate and before I could say anything he reached out, his thumb brushing across my lip to catch the last trace of the cider.
The touch stole my breath.
“Can’t waste it,” he murmured, his gaze locked on mine.
I forgot how to breathe. Forgot where we were. All I knew was him—his warmth, the taste of cider on my tongue, and the hunger flickering in his expression.
Then his hand cupped my jaw, and he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was desperate and hungry, like he’d been thinking about this as much as I had. He kissed like he was claiming territory. His tongue swept boldly over the seam of my lips, then deeper, raking against the roof of my mouth. I moaned into him, and he swallowed it like a man starved. His other hand tangled in my hair, holding me to him as his mouth moved over mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.
I’d been kissed before. Plenty of times. But never like this. Never like I was oxygen and he’d been drowning. Never like he couldn’t get enough of me.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Trent’s forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed, his hands still framing my face.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I said fiercely. “Don’t you dare.” I hadn’t waited all my adult life for a kiss like that just to have it brushed aside like a mistake. That kiss? That was a declaration. A detonation. A damn cider-soaked epiphany.
His eyes opened, and the heat I saw there made my pulse stutter. “Abby...”
“I wanted you to kiss me,” I said, because apparently we were being honest now. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me like that since you caught me falling off that ladder.”
Something dark and possessive flashed across his face. “You could have been hurt.”
“But I wasn’t. You caught me.” And somewhere deep inside, I knew he’d always be the one who would.
